Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) Read Online Fiona Cole

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Blame it on the Alcohol Series by Fiona Cole
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Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
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I blinked slowly, my eyebrows lifting with doubt as I looked her up and down in her red stilettos, ripped jeans, and cropped sweater.

“Oh, shut up,” she scolded quietly. “It’s better than sitting there. What are you going to do? Throw your spoon at them?”

“Maybe.”

Another pounding knock.

“Maybe it’s Nova again,” I suggested hopefully.

Raelynn gave serious side-eye and crept closer to the door. Just as she was about to look out the peephole, a deep voice replaced the knocking.

“Verana, I know you’re in there.”

Our heads whipped to each other, and I knew my eyes were just as wide as hers.

“What the fuck?” she mouthed, hands out for support.

I just shook my head. To what? I didn’t know.

To not knowing what to do.

To not wanting to let him in.

To not wanting to turn him away.

To shake loose the rambling orchestra of chaotic thoughts fighting for dominance in my head.

“Please.” He sounded like the Beast from Beauty and the Beast. Barely restrained anger and unused to the word—but trying because he cared.

No. Nicholas Knightly Rush didn’t care about anyone but himself. It’d been a week and not a word beyond a request to talk until I finally made a decision.

“I’m letting him in,” she mouthed, looking like a bull ready for a fight.

I looked frantically around, maybe hoping for a hole to open up in the floor I could dive away into, never facing him again.

My chest curled in on itself, squeezing too tight. My muscles seized in a battle to stand and face him or bolt the other way. Was there a fire escape here?

But before I could make my decision, the door was open, and my husband’s dark, commanding presence, that had caught my eye from across a crowded restaurant and even from behind a mask, swallowed the room whole—sucking every bit of oxygen into himself.

I jerked to my feet and had to clench my hands at my sides to hide their trembling.

He scanned the room until he landed on me, his eyes darkening like the blackest obsidian. His scruff had grown to a full beard, but still, his lips were too full to be hidden, and I was able to watch the way they curled up like a feral growl.

In my best imaginations, he begged and pleaded, told me he loved me, and he’d made a mistake. When I forced myself to face reality, I imagined indifference and maybe—maybe—a hint of regret. But never had I thought about his anger.

Because what the hell did he have to be angry about?

He got what he wanted. He won. He lied. I lost. I should be the one mad. Instead, I trembled like a leaf fighting off the urge to run into his arms.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled, taking a threatening step closer.

“Hey, now,” Raelynn tried to cut in. She rested her palm on his arm, but he shook her off like she didn’t even register.

His eyes locked on me and didn’t move an inch the closer he got. “We had a deal, Verana. Five fucking years. No backing out.”

“What?” I screeched, my head jerking back like his words crossed the space and slapped me.

“Did you think I would just sign the papers? You signed a contract.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I looked to Raelynn for support, but she moved to the kitchen island and studied her nails. Her eyes flicked to mine but just as quickly jerked away. “Seriously, Raelynn?”

She held up her hands, and if she had a white flag, she’d have waved it with pride.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” His voice went dangerously low, and he closed the space down to only a foot between us. “Because I’m dead fucking serious.”

“How dare you, Nicholas mother-fucking Knightly Rush.” Shock at the entire situation and the flood of emotions I’d done my best to block out all week rendered me damn near speechless. I could hold my own in an argument, and there I stood, throwing his name at him like it was the best weapon I had. I might as well have thrown the spoon.

“Yeah. Nicholas mother-fucking Knightly Rush. Also known as your goddamn husband, Mrs. Rush.”

“You can’t hold me to that.”

“I can, and I will.”

His arrogance and the sheer certainty in his eyes had my steel walls sliding shut, blocking everything else out, making me stand taller behind my shield of armor.

I pulled my shoulders back and lifted my chin, each move done with the clang of me locking down the hatches, prepared for battle. I leaned forward and curled my lip to match his. “No.”

His only reaction to my calmly spoken word was a blink—a single blink, but it was enough to know I’d landed a blow. Unfortunately, I’d held too much confidence in my defenses and celebrated too soon. No amount of steel, no lock, no stubborn denial could keep Nico Rush out.


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